


Threads of Light on Fabrics of Night

by Frostburn



Series: Shadows and Moonlight [5]
Category: Faerie Folklore, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-21 12:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16576694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostburn/pseuds/Frostburn
Summary: Set in theShadows and Moonlightuniverse.One-shots, background stories, and things cut from finalised posts.Tags of characters will be added as they're introduced in each chapter/story.





	1. Games

The starry firmament around him was calm and undisturbed, the light-motes of his bright wife shedding their soft white glow upon the cosmos. Without, the roiling ether seethed and warped with the weft and pull of mighty forces as his fellow powers attempted to wrest some semblance of control. However, none of the chaos disturbed him nor his halls.

He is Rahu, Lord of Air and Darkness, and within his domain he is supreme. 

His casted his dark, unfathomable eyes around him until they rested upon the chara board in front of him in the middle of his throne room. Shaped like a leaf, it was divided into three segments with the largest segment forming a square. Inside each segment, lines formed grids of triangles that dictate the movement of each chara pieces brought into play. The outer segments served as a home for pieces yet to he committed to the main playing field. 

Rahu smiled, thinking fondly of the friendly games he had played with his wife and his siblings.

Then, as if the very memory invoked had summoned her, she appeared. His wife’s entrance into his throne room was heralded by motes of light swirling around the gloomy recesses of the room. Coalescing into a form of a slender feminine build it grew solid before the well-loved face of his wife met his.

Selene, Lady of the Moon, smiled lovingly at her husband. She crossed over to him and folded him in her arms with a fond embrace.

“Dearest,” she greeted him. “It has been so long.”

“I’ve waited for you each waning of the silver, dear heart,” he replied, loving and fond. “I can wait an eternity for you.”

Her bright tinkling laugh met her declaration, both content and charmed at the gallant pronouncement. “Thank Ahad that you are not required to do so.” She spied the chara board and glanced at him. “Another game, before we retire?” 

Rahu inclined his assent, motioning his wife to take the opposite side of the board across from him. He gestured, a small flick of his forefinger summoning his favourite playing pieces. Each was crafted masterfully out of obsidian with their default form being the fae race mortals would later come to call as trolls or giants—his most devout adherents.

Opposite him, Selene did the same, summoning her own crystal-hewed figurines. They were each formed as cloaked figures, as befitting the Goddess of the Moon, Mysteries and Witches.

Selene committed to the field one of her major chara pieces—The Princess. As she put the piece forth on the playing field it reformed itself to bear the shape of a mortal female dressed in an Empire-style gown. Her shoulder-length curls were held back in a loose chignon at the nape of her neck with the hands held with their palms upwards, to her chest in either prayer or supplication. 

Rahu raised an eyebrow, the details of the figurine's face were exquisite—it was the face of princesses sung in tales—with both sweetness and grace to match the gentle, welcoming air of the small sculpture. 

“Committing your Princess piece so early in the game?” he asked, tone conversational.

“She has ever been a major role in most cases when it comes to our kind, hasn’t she?” Selene answered archly. “Your turn, husband.”

“Not so!” a raucous voice cried, distracting the two divine beings at play.

A mordant grey mist tinged with red roiled and surged as it demanded entry within Rahu's walls. Rahu hissed his annoyance, even as he allowed the unwelcome guest entry into his sanctum. 

“Finoley, Galtor,” he greeted in a monotone, the icy cold that was his birthright lacing his grudging welcome.

The twin powers of corruption and war bowed mockingly to their elder siblings. The Lady of Deception eyed the chara board greedily. “I heard there are war games afoot, brother dear,” Finoley purred, her whispery voice a dark, oily caress. “It pleases me to see the whispers were correct.”

“And you’ve come to play, I gathered,” Selene stated, her distaste palpable. It was common knowledge that Finoley tends to warp any rules if she could. Selene could not see how this time would be any different.

Rahu turned his cold, dark stare towards Galtor. “And sensing conflict, you seek to linger to at the vanquished like a vulture,” his accusation made into a statement of fact.

The Reaving Lord shrugged, his crazed grin widening. “We can’t help our natures, brother.”

Rahu exchanged a glance with Selene. Her face gave nothing away, serene and calm, despite being displeased by the interruption. Rahu knew that even though she may be his wife she was first and foremost a servant of the Balance their overlord Ahad had created. The games, while played in innocence and goodwill between them, have ripple effects in the lives of their chosen avatars on the mortal planes. To introduce new players especially those reputed to have little regard for the sanctity of Balance or rules was inviting a disaster of apocalyptic proportions.

“You may play separately as allies, or as a single joint unit. As a joint unit you may utilise as much player pieces you are entitled to, with each player able to move his partner pieces without permission,” Selene stated.

Rahu cringed inwardly. The rule that his wife had recited was an old one, often overlooked by chara players. Reminding the players of the rule—and knowing the wild temperaments of his younger siblings—the Nightlord winced at the veritable chaos that would ensue.

“Jointly, then!” Galtor crowed. 

Rahu did not miss the chagrined look in Finoley's eyes. Rahu now realised that his wife had gambled on Galtor's mad impetuousness and won. Finoley now had to contend with both of them, while curtailing her fellow player at the same time.

“A choice, once made cannot be unmade,” Rahu reminded them of another rule.

“And finally,” Selene added. “You may substitute any piece of yours for one of equal or lesser value belonging to players currently absent. Their movements, however is dependent still on the absent players' will.”

“Then as example, I may substitute my High Priestess for Lemuderia's Queen?” Finoley asked her elder sister.

“If she wills it, the Queen may move as how you require it so,” Selene confirmed. “If not, your move for that round is forfeit.”

“Very well,” Finoley purred her agreement, her eyes aflicker with anticipation.  
The chara board reshaped itself to accommodate the players. A third petal framed the playing field now, with two chairs ready to welcome the joint players.

“My move,” Rahu reminded them as they took their respective places. He casted about, finally picking up one piece he had stopped using for over a century and looked hard at it. “I substitute my Dead Hero for Gulien's Avenging Soldier,” he said finally.

The absent Sunlord heard his brother’s barter and opted to acknowledge it. The figurine in Rahu’s hand slowly reformed and transmuted itself from finely honed obsidian to a perfect miniature of gold. It now held the shape of a man with beautifully muscled proportions. Dressed in close-fitted leather armour, with a round shield strapped to one arm. It stood at attention after being placed in the field, saluted Rahu and turned to face the blank opposite side to stand ready to further await Rahu’s instructions.

“Protect the Princess piece of Selene,” Rahu intoned.

With a smart about face that would do any general proud, the soldier piece turned on the board and advanced towards the lone Princess piece. His smart march stopped one square away and the gold figurine bowed to the crystal form of the Princess. With a smile, the Princess piece returned the greeting with an exquisitely graceful curtsey. 

“Oh!” Selene cried out in surprise when the soldier piece advanced on the square the Princess was placed. 

Gently cradling her crystal form in his hands, the soldier touched his forehead to hers in a move of profound love and adoration. The movement was mirrored by the Princess piece circling her arms around his neck, her exquisite face turned upwards to his.

All four divine beings stared at the board before turning to each other. Galtor was beside himself in shock, sputtering incoherently while Finoley was silent in her stupefaction. Rahu was perplexed, but a niggling suspicion began working its way through his thoughts. It was confirmed by the next two words he heard next.

“Imagine that,” Selene murmured in the shocked silence of the throne room.


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, coping with his loss.

Steve stared at the ceiling of the motel room. 

The previous night had found him in front of the sign telling him he was leaving Wyoming. The days had sped down the highways unnoticed by him until a small whiff of lily-of-the-valley made him stop his bike. 

He had stared at the sign, starting to feel the weary miles creeping up on him. Slowly motoring off down the road, he spotted the small motel. It was modest and clean, if a bit run-down but the structure seemed sound and the middle-aged couple was sweet and welcomed him warmly. 

He slept through the entire day. 

He woke up not quite exhausted, even with dreams of a green-eyed witch haunting him. Lethargic, he slowly rose and forced himself to take a quick shower to slough away the memory and the grit of his travel. He had gone out for dinner at a nearby diner, the food consumed without him actually registering the taste. Now, he was back in his room. In the dark, the gloom broken only by the glow of streetlights.  
He stared at the ceiling, spying minute cracks in the plaster. 

Like the cracks around his heart. 

Jory was gone. Given to the Weave, the witch had sacrificed herself so the ancient ritual of Forbiddance could be completed. The barriers between the Feywilds and the Material plane was secured, with passage through only possible via special conditions.

He didn’t want to dream of her again. It made the pain of losing her even more unbearable. 

He had only known her for a short time but he knew with a certainty deep in his bones that he would want an eternity to spend with her. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his mobile. A glance told him it was Natasha. The others had stopped calling after the tenth time he left the calls unanswered. He had texted Nat that he was fine, unharmed and would not be taking any calls until he was ready to do so. It could be presumed she had cascaded his message to the rest. Rogue had texted once, telling him to stay safe but that was as far as all communications with the Avengers had went.

“Hey Nat,” he answered. 

“Where are you?” she asked, her voice tight and urgent.

“Somewhere in Connecticut.”

“Turn on the GPS, we’re coming to get you.”

“Nat,” he began, a light edge creeping into his voice.

“Steve, listen to me,” Natasha cut in. “You need to come back here. We’ll pick you up.”

“Why?”

A hesitant pause. Steve could practically hear her mind weighing her options. When she finally did, her answering voice was quiet and solemn.

“She’s here.”


	3. A Brief History of Creation and the First War of the Fae

_Selected excerpts from_ Risalah Umm-Izajil* _and_ Khitab Zaman _*, from_ _the collection of Arden Ciarr of House Illirien, Fifty-seventh Lord of Shadivari._

_Translated and compiled by Agatha Rizaldi, Loremaster and arcane devotee of Shakti._

~~~~

  
**I**

  
HE sped through HIS work in the great yawning space of the cosmos. The brilliant colours from the threads of Creation flashed as HIS deft and dextrous fingers weaved designs that will soon take shape in the expansive blackness all around HIM.

As HE wove, HE could sense the beginnings of HIS creation forming. The faint thrums of raw power unfurled from the core of HIS being. It suffused the loom, the immense fabric of HIS creation. The power traced itself as brilliant silvery white threads as it took its place amongst the weave and weft of other colours in the tapestry that was slowly taking shape.

Some of the silver white threads melded themselves with a separate spool of golden ones, forming a colour that was neither white, silver, nor yellow or even gold. Instead, it was a combination of both—metallic bright and softly translucent at the same time. Like light in its purest essence.

HE gathered these new thread and wove shapes pleasing to HIM, ending with a veritable host of animated, beautifully winged forms. Graceful, they circled above and around HIM, all joined in a single unbroken hymn at recognising HIM as their Maker. He calls them HIS Heavenly Hosts, and set them to various stations and ranks to serve HIM and work HIS will.

 

**II**

  
More of the silvery white threads joined its fellow worked within the great tapestry, this time chasing fibres of brilliant scarlet, orange and crimson. The figures formed within the tapestry were not as refined as the earlier creations for they lack the grace and uniformity of their earlier brethren. Yet HE was pleased with the dark gravelly bass of their choral voices as they sang their acknowledgement of HIM. In contrast to the stately hum of their bright cousins, these are unbridled cacophony of praise and cries of ardent worship, and was a fitting counterpoint to the uniformly clear, airy tones of the Heavenly Hosts. HE delighted in their exuberance and named them the Jinn, the Children of the Eternal Flames. HE had them unfurl the great tapestry and set the spread of multicoloured shapes and colours to occupy the vast emptiness of the void surrounding them. He spread the Jinn amongst his creations in each of the four corners.

 

**III**

  
The Jinn danced and frolicked amongst the earthly plane but soon discord came upon them as each allowed the ugly stirrings of envy and jealousy touch upon their minds. They grew recalcitrant and destructive, wreaking havoc and ruin on all around them. Great was HIS rage and HE set the Heavenly Hosts upon these errant creations in chastisement. The remnants of the survivors melded themselves into the new threading of the grand tapestry, where the living threads of silver white power had not been left idle. It had woven itself among the fabric of the earthly plane; its nature affecting various other colours spun within the tapestry. It subsumed them, and those affected by the threads of power formed themselves from the physical manifestations of the earthly plane.

These various multicoloured shapes were a chaotic blend of temperaments, forms and natures, even though they were not as great in number compared to their elders. They were both ordered and wild, discordant and peaceful, misshapen and comely. These are the threads of the tapestry left to govern itself independently. It shivered and calmed by their inner struggle taking place on its surface as it floated untethered in the void, watched by HIM as he pondered the latest collection of HIS creations struggling to reach an accord.

Knowing that left unsupervised would spell the eventual unravelling of the tapestry, HE ground these threads into the very weft of the base fabric. They will not float and flit unmoored among the black void of the cosmos but tied to the earthly plane from where they drew their strength, their powers—a granted portion of his own, while still formidable, will now be limited to the reflection their own natures.

To set them away from caprice and idleness that had plagued the Jinn, HE granted the trust of guarding the firmament of now unseen threads of power woven in the tapestry to these bound creations. Being more strict now that HE had taken their measure and the capacity for mischief, HE set further limitations to their forms to be forever tied to the physical world. Not true immortals were they unlike their distant fellows, though time still rests lightly upon them. HE calls this third race Izajil, the Fae, and allowed them a place among the earthly plane.

 

**IV**

  
Time passed unmarked, until HE gathered HIS creations and allowed them to witness the coming of the fourth and last of HIS creations to be woven into the fabric of the tapestry. The first of these was spindly and awkward in shape and stood erect on two legs. His essence was woven from the dark brown and black threads that formed the soil of the earthly plane. HE called this being Adam, and in time created for him a mate named Hawa. While Adam was a mortal creature doomed to die in the fullness of time, HE granted him a grand portion of the sacred trust and honour HE had earlier withheld from HIS older creations.

The Heavenly Hosts were aghast! How could a mortal be HIS chosen instrument to spread HIS word throughout Creation? How could a mere mortal possess the refinement of thought and wisdom to understand and work HIS will? Wrathful, HE rebuked them and had Adam prove his worth. All were appeased and chastised, except a lone dissenting voice. This rebel refused to acknowledge the honour bestowed upon Adam nor would he cede dominion over to what he felt was his lesser—his pride would not countenance it. Thus this being was now known as Iblis, the First Fallen and he gathered from his ilk those of similar bent and was summarily cast out beyond the peaceful gardens of HIS domain.

Much later, through designs unknown, Adam and his mate Hawa was set down on the earthly plane as penance for their transgressions. There, on the earthly plane, the fruits of their joining grew in number and spread across the earthly plane as ages more passed uncaring, carrying with it Adam, Hawa and their descendants as the cold clutch of the eternal sleep came upon them. It was during the nascent stage of their climb to civilization that the mortals came upon the Fae.

 

**V**

  
The unlearned and primitive mortals could not comprehend the powers of these primal spirits that shared their world. Unknowing, they paid them respect—and to the mightiest of them, worship. As their veneration grew so did the might of these primal spirits. Down the passage of eons uncounted their names echoed unbidden in myths and legends told among mortals; names such as Rahu the Nightlord and his bright consort Selene the Moonmaiden, Shakti the Magemistress, and Amara Pele of the unquenchable flame; they all took root in the collective consciousness of mortals who remember the Old Ways.

 

**VI**

  
The Fae initially strove hard in working the task laid unto them. They stood firm against the First Fallen and his followers valiantly, their combined powers enough to banish the accursed ones from the earthly plane into the depthless haunts of the void. Yet, their mystique, and their perceived long life proved to be their undoing. For despite being primal spirits, they were burdened by the constraints of their endless tasks, and like some of their Jinn forebears they became disillusioned with their lot and forsook their sacred trust. As the living embodiments of the natural world as HE had decreed, as the world around them inexorably changed in small increments so did they—and some do not find this change to their liking. As more time passes, mortals grew to outstrip them in numbers while the Fae either dwindled or further retreated into their hidden domains. For while mortals were granted honour as the chosen stewards of the earthly plane, they were not infallible. And it was in the nature of mortals to fear which they do not understand or control. The proliferation of mortals and their ensuing encroachment into lands previously—unknowingly, to the mortals—held by the Fae further soured relationships between them.

As mortals grew in influence and dominion, the Fae felt the faint twinges of fear that their days were coming to an end. Some had reconciled themselves to their fate and accepted it resignedly. Some sought to stamp a greater permanency of their mark on the earthly plane.

 

**VII**

  
Bringing to bear the magics that were their birthright they created a dark rite that soon turned on them when HE learned of the challenge to HIS decree. They will be immortal in all meanings of the word, but at a great price: for life to be retained so too life must be sacrificed. As it was said in all tenets of HIS will. They will be immortal and amass great power as long as they draw life from their victims. Thus was the curse of the whampiri came to pass.

A great schism befell these spirits. The gentler among them were horrified at the sacrilege and banished the whampiri. They, in return, took to feeding on the life-force of their brethren for they have already discovered such act will add to their own powers. And so it continued, until for the first time, the earthly plane knew war.

The ensuing conflict drove one of the spirits insane as he glutted on blood and unending mayhem war caused. His dark brethren fed his insatiable bloodlust while the fairer ones tried to stem his madness. Forevermore, the Fae were divided into two factions: Seelie and Unseelie, Light and Dark. Housed in their respective strongholds in Arboretum on the island haven of Atlantis, the light fae waged pitched battles against the forces of dark who held sway in the frozen wastes of Tir Na Nog.

 

**VIII**

  
Foreseeing the great ruin that the endless war would bring to the earthly plane, the Light took counsel amongst themselves and embarked on the route of self-sacrifice. Knowing that their dominion of the earthly plane was ending, this last move they had decided on would cede forever their mastery of the world to the children of Adam.

Their gamble took fruition and they worked upon their lands a great Forbiddance that banished all Fae to a mirror world so that the earthly plane may live on undisturbed by their unending wars.

 

**IX**

  
Yet the wisest among them foresaw the time when mortals would come to know of them again. For nothing mortal is ever eternal. The Forbiddance may one day crumble and require renewing, as their wisest seers foretold. They also foresaw the descendants of mixed couplings between Fae and mortals for they will later came to be the instruments of destiny that will bring about the Light's triumph.

 

 


	4. Dinner at the McCall's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack's parents and adult members have their routine dinner party/bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Chapter 8 in "Twilight"

“Jenna!” Melissa McCall exclaimed in surprise at seeing the other woman at her door. “Is something wrong?” she asked, a tinge of worry in her voice.

The blonde raised her eyebrows before she broke into a relieved smile. “No,” she assured the other woman. “I just remembered that you promised to make your famous beef burgundy and wanted to see if I could borrow some tips.” She shook the large carrier bag in her hand, jingling some of the kitchenware that she had brought along with her.

“Well, come in then,” Melissa invited. “How are David and the boys?” she asked as she led Jenna into the kitchen where the beginnings of dinner were assembled on the counter.

“David is fine. He's coming over after he finishes his shift. Liam is out on a roadtrip with some of his college friends to San Fransisco. Theo is meeting with one of the envoys who came down with Peter.”

“The hot exotic one, or the frigid hag?”

Jenna sputtered a bit, a bashful giggle bubbling out from her. “Frigid hag?” she asked with a grin.

“Lydia told Natalie, who told me, that she looked as if she stepped in dog poop, all pinched and judgy.”

Jenna shook her head at the colourful description. Lydia is famous for being opinionated, and for not being shy at all in voicing it—usually couched in scathing sarcasm. Jenna suspected that Stiles may have contributed to the occasionally humourous graphic turns of phrase.

“I know that Hayden and Kira are taking Nisa out for a girl’s day out,” Jenna supplied.

“Nisa?”

“The hot exotic one.”

“This might sound immature, but we hate her right?”

“Why?”

“I know I never looked that good in my thirties,” Melissa grumbled good-naturedly.

Jenna let out a peal of laughter. “Neither did I,” she tossed in. “Peter seems to find her captivating, though.”

“Really? Peter Hale wrapped around a woman’s finger?” Chris' voice came from the kitchen’s doorway, where he was leaning against. “Now I'm curious to see this mysterious envoy.”

“You’re back early,” Melissa noted, a warm smile on her face as she greeted her husband. Chris and Melissa had tied the knot three years ago. She gave him a peck on the lips and shooed him off with, “Go get cleaned up and help set the table.”

Chris chuckled. “Yes, dear,” he said with a wink to his wife.

Jenna looked at Melissa fondly. “You two are just too cute,” she commented. 

Melissa disdained the comment with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get to it then,” she said briskly, waving at the stove.

Jenna readily complied, going about chopping ingredients that will make up the now-habitual dinner gathering of the parents and more adult members of the pack.

“We expecting a full house tonight?” Ienna asked as she handed Melissa the bowl of chopped onions over.

“Everyone except Derek and Parrish,” Melissa answered. Only Jenna ever called Parrish by his given name. “Derek’s at a literary convention and Parrish is working nights this week.”

Jenna nodded, moving around the other woman to grab a serving bowl to place the assembled salad nicoise. Chris appeared about a half hour later as if by magic to cart the bowl and a tureen full of what smells to Jenna like a promising beef burgundy. 

The doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of their friends. Jenna heard Rafe and Natalie's voice joined in greeting Chris. 

“Melissa, do you have space in your fridge for dessert?” Natalie asked as she swanned into the kitchen. 

“Yep, middle rack.”

Jenna peered out of the corner of her eye while keeping an eye on the sauce she was stirring on the stove. Natalie Martin seemed aglow with—if she didn’t know any better--what was almost certainly the frothy fits of a girlish crush. Jenna knew that she had arrived with Rafe McCall. As how it stands currently, Jenna found herself enjoying the other woman’s happiness. She turned, hiding a secret smile from the other occupants in the kitchen. 

Noshiko and her husband Ken soon arrived, with Noah Stilinski and David Geyer tagging behind them not ten minutes later. The Yukimuras had brought a platter of seared bass cutlets lightly glazed with sweet soy. Noah had brought a tub of loaded mashed potatoes. 

Melissa and Jenna came out of the kitchen, each laden with platters of food. Chris and David gamely helped to divest their wives of their burden. 

Melissa ushered them to take their places around the dinner table, seats artfully arranged by her husband. 

Jenna and Chris were helping Melissa serving up the food when the doorbell rang again. 

Noah stood, waving his hosts down. “I’ll get it,” he said, heading to the door. 

A few moments later, Peter and a striking woman of Indian descent appeared following Noah into the dining room. 

“Everyone,” Peter greeted smoothly. “I hope you don’t mind a sudden addition for tonight?”

“Not at all,” Melissa said with a small smile. “We’re two short tonight, anyway.”

“Parrish working nights?”

Melissa nodded, handing him a plate with generous portions of salad, wild rice, beef burgundy and a drizzle of Jenna’s sauce. Peter accepted it, smiling his thanks and made the introductions. 

“It all smells delicious,” Nisa complimented Melissa with a wide smile. She sat after the round of introduction was over. She had brought two bottles of 2012 Merlot that Chris helped open and decant into their glasses. It was obvious that the woman knew her wines.

Melissa had to concede that despite her earlier reservation regarding the woman who seemed to have Peter so enamoured of her. Nisa was the perfect guest. Her table manners were impeccable, and she was unexpectedly warm and friendly. Her outfit of crimson satin blouse and plain, linen cream-coloured slacks were unadorned and she wore no accessories except for a small cluster of hydrangeas worked artfully into her loose chignon. It all spoke of relaxed, understated poise recalling a young Ingrid Bergman.

“Is this your first time in the States?” Noah asked her.

“First time on the west coast,” she replied. “But I often spend Christmas holidays and the occasional summer with friends up in Maine and New York.”

“The weather must have been a great change for you,” Jenna pointed out.

“Oh gods,” Nisa exhaled with a grimace. “I remember the first time I felt wind chill when we touched down at La Guardia. I think I made a wild dash for the nearest mall hunting for a coat!” she continued with a small laugh. “All I had on were a T-shirt, jeans and a cardigan at the time.”

Jenna nodded her understanding even as she groaned inwardly. Being caught unprepared out in the open during a New York winter cannot be fun for anyone.

“You'll find the weather here more agreeable,” Noshiko said.

“Definitely,” Nisa agreed. “I am liking it here so far in California.”

“Summer here is a different beast, though,” Peter warned her playfully.

“I have my bikini ready,” she responded saucily with a wink.

The table erupted into laughter at Peter’s slightly scandalised look. He wasn’t expecting that, Jenna would guess. She exchanged a discreet look with Melissa and Chris. 

After dinner, Jenna and Noshiko served coffee and tea while Natalie trotted out the baked Alaska she had brought for dessert. Melissa put aside a container of the leftovers for Parrish; the Geyers would swing by the station on their way back to drop off later. 

The rest had adjourned to the living room. Ken, Peter, and Nisa had grouped together, joined deep in conversation. From what she picked up, they were discussing something history-related. Natalie and Noshiko joined Rafe where he and Noah were trading stories about their children. Melissa came over to her and handed her a mug of coffee, sweet and black. Jenna accepted her with thanks and leaned closer to her hostess.

“We don’t hate her, do we?” Jenna murmured her question to Melissa. 

Melissa grinned. “Anyone who can surprise Peter Hale has my vote,” she said with a small chuckle. She caught Peter’s narrowed eyes when the werewolf turned to look at her, having heard her answer. She hoisted her coffee cup cheekily at him in a mock toast. 

The night drew on, as new bonds of friendship were tentatively made and formed. It was a good night spent with good food and felicity. Tomorrow, all could change. However, tomorrow is a worry for another day. Tonight, all is well, as small peals of laughter echoed in happiness and contentment. Outside, the cool night breeze blew uncaring across the street as Beacon Hills wandered itself slowly to sleep.


End file.
